Angel-Lit Path: France's Resolve
by Yuukei-no-Tori
Summary: He regretted teasing England, he regretted always going after him at any chance, he regretted not holding him like he had wanted to do, he regretted not kissing those lips of his and making him his not for a night, for the rest of both of their lives as nations…..but now it was too late. England was gone and he was alone. ((Rated for Death, Mentions of Violence and Light Yaoi.))


I wanted to write a FrUk fanfiction so I looked at pictures and I saw one of France holding Britannia's hands who's flying above him and it brought this on, who knows, it might lead to a new story in itself!

I hope you all enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing my first fanfiction in such a long time!

Angel-Lit Path: France's Resolve

France didn't know how this had happened.

All around him was dead soldiers of the English and the French mixed with the bodies of Germans as well though they were in less numbers. It was raining, and the Frenchman felt a chill run through him as he looked at the remains of a battle fought, and lost. He, France and England had tried to defend the United Kingdom from World War 3, when Germany had risen up again with the help of Russia to take control of Europe again.

This time though, the price was much more then lives of Jews in concentration camps and the holocaust.

…..the cost was a nation.

France approached the felled body of England, still in that green military uniform that was now stained with blood, several bullet wounds cascading the Englishman's back.

"Angleterre? Angleterre. Mon dieu…." France quickly went about turning his friend over and looked at the mud stained face he had learned to love and hate all these years, the face that had the enormous eyebrows that he teased him about so mercilessly. He checked for a pulse, nothing, he checked his breathing and heard no sound from him as France's own heartbeat and breathing escalated.

"No…no, mon Cherie…sil vous plait, sil vous plait. Please don't let this be!" he pleaded to no one as he, though he knew it was fruitless, tried to get the Englishman breathing again. After a few minutes though he sat back on his heels and looked up the black, gloom sky which seemed to reflect the emotions the Frenchman was feeling, the fear…the sadness, the anger, but most of all….regret.

_Regret…? Why…do you regret?_

He heard a whisper in the back of his mind, which wanted to know what he was thinking, or rather what he truly was feeling.

He regretted teasing England, he regretted always going after him at any chance, he regretted not holding him like he had wanted to do, he regretted not kissing those lips of his and making him his not for a night, for the rest of both of their lives as nations…..but now it was too late.

England was gone and he was alone.

But then, just as France had just about gotten up and went to report the news. A light peeked through the clouds and shone on him and the now deceased-body of his friend. The body...vanished, which left France wide-eyed.

Was England still alive and was using his power as Britannia to bring hi

France couldn't even finish the thought when Britannia ascended in front of the Frenchman who, by now was soaked to the bone through his purple and red uniform.

"Angleterre! You're alive! You had me so worried!"- France tried to hug him, but his hands which were now muddy from the dirt and rain passed through Britannia without him even showing that it had touched him at all, while France felt like he had just stuck is hand over top of a warm fire, not close enough to burn but yet not far away enough to be cold.

"_Listen…France….."_ he started, France who had risen to his full height stared at him with horror, not wanting to believe it, wanting to deny it…but the truth was right in front of him and he felt his heart breaking from that fact….that England truly was dead, and that he truly was alone.

"…_I'm sorry….."_ and that was it, France fell to his knees and for the first time since Jeanne D'Arc died at the stake for being accused as an witch, he cried and all Britannia could do was to kneel down in front of him and wrap his ethereal arms around him, surrounding him in that soft, warm light.

France was used to trials given to him by God; he had faced many in his life time and overcome all of them as well as he could. The best example would be his victory over England after the Maid of Orleans had lost his life for his sake, but this trial…was much too cruel.

"Angleterre, please…please don't leave me…."

Britannia said nothing for a moment.

"_Frog….you know…that I…can't do that…I lost my country to Germany, there's nothing you ca-"_

"Then I'll divide my country for your sake!" France suddenly looked up at him through glassy violet eyes, which made with the forest green orbs of his best friend, and his secret love.

"_France, listen to me for a moment. You're a bloody cheese frog who only knows how to take advantage of people's weakness and benefit himself, you're an annoying twit who has bothered me from when you were just the Kingdom of the Franks, and goddamnit you're the one that helped the bloody American get his independence…"_

He cracked a small smile.

"_But you're probably one of the only people, maybe even the ONLY person that could stand me, you liked talking to me, doing things with me, even when you teased me we were having fun, even when we were at each other's throats you always came to see me in the end to make sure I was okay even though you always looked to be the one worse-for-wear. You can't just give up now, you didn't give up after Jeanne D'Arc died, you fought on and you won in the end, you managed to get Italy to come to us in World War Two, you have a lot more strength then you give yourself credit for Frog, and I'm not going to let you throw it away due to me falling…now, stand up._

As instructed France stood after Britannia let go and stood.

_Now hold out your hands._

France held out his hands and Britannia made the signature star-headed wand of his appear and waved it, a dark brown, leather covered book appeared in France's opened hands.

"W-What's thi-"

"_This is a collection my most warranted spells, the highlights of my archive, I entrust it and all my magical properties to you, you will now be able to see my magical friends as well, you have to take care of them for me."_

France looked bewildered, everything that England held dear, his books, his magic, and his closest friends were now being left to him?

"Angleterre I don't think that I could do you justice."

"_You did your little Maid of Orleans didn't you?"_ France started to tear up again as he brought the book close to his chest and held it like it was his lifeline, which he felt that if he didn't have this book, that he would've fell to pieces right there.

Britannia enveloped him in another hug_ "I know you can do it Francis."_ He then pulled away and went to take to the air, while facing away from France and then unexpectedly felt a grab on to his toga's end. He looked back at France and saw that he had grabbed on to it. France then said the words he had held in his heart for so long that….it had started to hurt.

"Je t'aime mon Cherie…..je t'aime Arthur!" he let go then and Britannia paused, expression blank before a soft, heart-warming smile came to his face.

"…_.I…love you too Francis." _

It only took a moment then for Britannia to once again flap those pristine white angel wings and disappear.

France let out a deep shuddering sigh before turning on his heel and leaving the battle field with now not a test from God, but a test in its own right.

He held the book close and stepped forward, onto the path now lit by his angel.


End file.
